Jovi's Lament Fanfiction Version
by XflllggonTheUndeterminable
Summary: One of my first works, slightly altered from the original Bulbagarden version.
1. Chapter 1

It was a late night at the Outskirt Stand, an old steam train turned diner and bar. The train had long since stopped, as there were no longer any tracks for it to run upon. It was just stranded in the desert, much like the S. S. Tidal, which had since been converted into a hotel. It was a normal night at the Stand, with the few people who always hung around at night finishing off their drinks and sitting around at their tables. There was always the odd one or two who walked into the Stand this late at night. What was especially odd about this one was that she was 12 years old and had blue hair.

The girl went up to the bar and sat down. She looked especially downcast as she gave her order to the bar's owner. "Hey, barkeep. Could you please get me a root beer?"

The man turned and looked to her. "Say, you're a new face around here. What's your name?"

"Jovi." said the girl, staring down at the table as the man poured her a drink.

"Here ya go, kid."

Jovi sat in solitude after chugging down the soda. Eventually the bartender noticed that her glass was empty. "D'ya want some more, kiddo?"

"No, thanks, I-I-I'll-"

"It's on the house. Just for you. You deserve it." When within little time, Jovi had downed a large amount of root beer, the proprietor began to worry. He sat down across from her on his end of the bar.

"Hey kid, you okay?"

Jovi sighed and asked:

"What's it to you?"

"Look. I know something's up. I haven't seen anybody here drink that much since about a year ago."

"What happened?"

The bartender sighed as he recounted the boy who came in the year before. "The boy's name was Wes. Up to this point, every time I saw him but one, he brought along this girl. Her name was Rui. Now they were an item, these two. I ain't never seen 'em apart after the day they met. Then this time it was different. I saw Wes trudgin' through that door not unlike you yourself, and he came up to the bar n' asked me for a beer. He took a drink, then he asked me if he could tell me a story shortly before payin' for some more booze."

The barkeep had Jovi's attention. She looked up and asked:

"What happened then?"

"Well, after he had another drink, he told us his story. Supposedly, after makin' it big for stoppin' all them Shadow Pokémon, his life just plain went to Hades from there. He just swigged down glass after glass as he told us about Team Snagem and about how Rui got killed by Cipher and all them things like that, all while tryin' to drown his sorrows and his liver just the same. And when he was done, he paid the tab and just left. The next thing I heard was an engine roaring as he drove off into the distance. And that's the last I heard of him. What's your story, kid?"

Jovi put down her glass. "Okay, but before we start, are you familiar with The Residents?" The bartender racked his brain.

"Let's see... Four guys... who wear tuxedos... and top hats..."

Jovi got more excited as the man began recalling the details.

"...And giant eyeballs... on their heads. And one of them wears a big plastic skull, right?"

Jovi's jaw dropped. "Oh my god! You know about The Residents! Someone other than me knows about The Residents!"

"You get all sorts of people here." said the bartender. "Every once in a while, somebody comes by and hands me a CD to play in the jukebox. And that's how I learned about those guys. Hey, Willie!" He threw a coin to one of the regulars.

"Put that in the machine and play the girl D-4 for me, why don't ya!" The man went up to the machine, inserted the coin, and pressed two buttons on the machine. A tune played on the jukebox that not even the regulars had heard, but was all too familiar to Jovi and the barkeep. As synthesizer melodies and an off-kilter guitar, a gravelly-voiced old man with a Southern drawl sang of all the things he wished he had, some he once did, some he did not, and how his life would be better if he had them once more. In a way, Jovi felt a connection with this old man, a person whose hope had turned to disillusion and would give anything to return to his prior state.

"Thanks. I needed that." replied Jovi."You know all those films about the Bunny Boy they started making?" The bartender nodded.

"Those films by the guy in the secret room? Yeah, I've been watchin' em from day one."

"Well, about twenty or thirty films into it, the Bunny Boy starts going into detail about the differences between him and his brother. At some point, he even fishes out two paintings of clowns. His brother is the happy clown, and he's the sad clown. I always saw myself as the sad clown. My brother was always given the star treatment. He had a legend, he had a title, he even got a girlfriend. He fell in love with some Equin chick he met over at Phenac and it was happily ever after from then on. Me, I was always bullied at school because I wasn't like all the others. My life is a wreck. I'm starting to regret this whole journey thing."

"Journey?"

"Well, it all started when I decided to take a trip through Orre of my own. I packed all my things and got myself ready, and I was on my way for greener pastures..."


	2. Chapter 2

"I headed out to old Kaminko's place first. Of course, Chobin, the guy's hapless lab assistant, is as blind as a bat, even with the glasses on. I wonder if he's got them on backwards or something, cause he came in wearing what looked like a giant robot suit that was armed to the teeth. Clearly compensating for something. And this time he was sure I was a thief. He was bent on destruction and the only way I could stop him was by trying hard enough not to evaporate to hit the 'do not push' button. Why Kaminko put one on there I'll never know.

After getting through the security, I stopped to talk with the doc. Did you know that until I was about 8, I was a natural brunette?"

"Really?" said the bartender. "That hair color's natural?"

"Yep." said Jovi. "I chugged down a chemical at the doc's lab. I thought it was grape soda. Within about a week, I noticed that my hair was blue at the roots. Hoo, boy was mom angry. She tanned old man Kaminko's hide like there was no tomorrow. She had a total fit about the hair. It was like that old kid's book where that girl sprouts a huge pair of horns."

"_Immogene's Antlers?_"

"Yeah. How do you know about it, barkeep?"

"A little boy came here a while back." said the barkeep. "He hitched a ride with a trucker. The boy just ran up to me and sobbed somethin' about an orphanage. The trucker came in and said the kid told him to that he want to go to the big choo-choo train in the sand and that he wanted to stay. He had some things that he said the kid brought with him. One of those things was that book. That was the last I heard of the trucker. He just set the boy's stuff down and walked out. Then I heard an engine roar, and away he went, just like the rest."

"What about the boy?" asked Jovi.

"Remind me about that story later."said the bartender. "For now, let's hear yours."

"Oh, yeah." said Jovi. "As I said earlier, Mom completely and totally flipped. She tried everything shy of feeding me more chemicals.

Personally, I was okay. I always wanted blue hair that wouldn't wash off in the shower. Only after enough of Mom's pals told her that I was fine with it and the hospital told her that I wasn't gonna die for the twentieth time did Mom quit making chicken noises and decide she was okay with it. Anyway, back to the trip. I spoke with Kaminko. He was pretty surprised that Chobin's battle suit fell apart. I told him that Chobin tried to use it to bump me off and that next time, he shouldn't install a button that shouldn't be pushed. That's Dr. Kaminko for you- always throwing a wrench in his own works."

"So that's why my fridge-"

"Yep. Look for a motion sensor on the fridge, then try putting tape over the motion sensor. That's how I tricked Mom's fridge into working.

Anyway, I checked out his plans. I don't remember what they were for, and I don't even think they were in English, but boy, did whatever it was look unwieldy. Then I went down to business.

I told him I left a few documents on the top floor of his back room, and that Blue-Haired Beaker over in front of the building had been scribbling all over them. I wanted to pick 'em up in case he went overboard. I swear, even after putting it in the hard place to look, you would think he would give up after a while."

"Trust me," said the bartender. "after seeing enough fake IDs, and some pretty complicated costumes, I'd know about just not giving up. Two kids even posed as one really big guy, just like those four from _Little Rascals._"

Jovi bust out laughing. "Really. People do that?"

"Ain't kiddin'." said the man. They almost had me, up to the point where the one on top started pourin' his beer down his trench coat."

"Truth _is_ stranger than fiction." replied Jovi. "Hey, could you please pour me some more root beer?"

"Of course, kid. Here." The barkeep poured her another glass.

"Thanks. Anyway, I was able to stay clear of everything long enough to get my stuff, a major achievement, judging by the kind of things he keeps up there. He needs a maid, big time. And a maid who's tough to scare at that."

"Yeah." said the barkeep. "I'm bettin' your average maid would run away hollerin' 'Satan lives here!' like the one that guy from Nirvana hired.

"You know the doc?"

"He came here for a drink once. He carried a bunch of vials full of who knows what, but it can't have been healthy, 'cause the fumes caused one of the gals who was there to go bald before her scalp turned orange. Thankfully, it was only temporary. Another guy was there, too. Kaminko sat down next to him and his facial hair just plain lit up like ol' Richard Pryor."

"Richard Pryor?"

"You'll learn about him when you get older. Anyway, I haven't let the doc near this place since."

"I don't blame you. I swear, he's insane. Mom's never really forgiven him over the hair incident. Anyway, I got all the documents, which Chobin had scribbled all over, and I was off. I needed a bike to get everywhere, so I went off to Gateon Port.

The place is pretty huge, but then, it has to be, right? It's a port town. Things have to get from point A to there and from there to point B on a regular basis. I was tempted to hop on a speedboat that looked like a small Kyogre, why it's still there is beyond me, but then I remembered that it came from Kaminko Labs and would probably explode the instant I got in the seat. I swear, with the loose quality control they've got over there, I'm surprised my brother lived to see Citadark.

Anyway, I decided I'd stop by the parts shop after taking a break at the old Club Krabby."

"Club Krabby, huh? I used to be a soda jerk for that place. It was pretty lively, but it was a real nightmare when the sailors got themselves hammered. Let's just say that one of the employees got a plate smashed over his head for singin' _What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor_ at the wrong time."

Jovi snickered, then began singing:

_"Dump him in the ocean until he's sorry,  
Dump him in the ocean until he's sorry,  
Dump him in the ocean until he's sorry  
Ear-ly in the mor-ning._

I had to do that for school once." She replied. "Not a good thing when there's actually a drunk sailor in the audience. They're still nagging him over the repairs to the auditorium."

"I think I know who you're talking about." said the bartender. "We had the guy over here once. They still haven't found all the glass he broke, and he never did pay his tab."

"Wow." said Jovi. "And I think Kaminko's gone loony-cuckoo-head... Anyway, I went on over to Club Krabby before goin' to the bike shop..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Man, was the place packed!" said Jovi. "But then again, somebody was footing the bill for everyone. Not that Greevil moron or somebody like that, but whoever it was, he was waving the cash-loaf whenever somebody wanted a purchase. Not to mention the fact that the attraction was entirely different. They usually have these magicians and this guy who never truly left the 70's."

"You mean Miror B?" asked the bartender.

"Oh, _that's_ his name." replied Jovi.

"I know the guy. He just wouldn't quit harassin' one of the customers. What's worse, he packed a feral Nosepass he just wouldn't curb. And have you seen his hair? He could probably survive off that thing for a month if all those hair products he spends his disposable income on didn't poison him."

Jovi couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, that's him, all right. Anyway, this time, they had this group of dancers called the Kimono Girls or something like that. There was also a breakdancer for some reason. The gal couldn't have been older than I am, and she was going at full speed. It was hard to see the gal at points. And they had some real good music, too. None of that horrifying pop music or anything like that."

"Talk of the pot calling the kettle black!" shouted one a man whose blood alcohol level had to be roughly one tenth of his age.

"What are _you_ talking about?" replied Jovi.

"Look," said the man. "By the mere virtue that you got Willie to play your song without wincing-"

"Look," said Jovi. "That wasn't me, that was the bartender. He knew I was down, so he put some music on to help. He's a fan too-"

"The barkeep _likes_ that kind of thing? What's this world-"

Willie stood up. "Shut up," shouted Willie while pointing at the bartender. "or he cranks the volume and I play something worth listening!"

"You ain't got the guts!" replied the man. Willie was glaring. "I'd like to see you try. I'd like to see you go up there and actually-AAAAAAAGH!"

A horrifying noise filled the air, one akin to an enormous malfunctioning copier trying to print on, staple, hole-punch, and collate several of its own critical components. The man who called Jovi a hypocrite was now doubled over and screaming in pain. Willie hollered something to Jovi, over all the noise:

"MERZBOW! WORKS EVERY TIME!"

Jovi walked up to Willie and gave him a high-five.

"IT'S USUALLY ONLY FOR RIOT CONTROL PURPOSES, BUT I FELT THAT IT WAS FIT FOR THE OCCASION!" he continued.

Jovi walked backed over to the bar, got out some money and hollered:

"BARTENDER! GET THIS MAN A BEER!"

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT THAT!" hollered the bartender. "I KNOW WILLIE _PERSONALLY!_ HE _ALWAYS_ GETS HIS DRINKS ON THE HOUSE!"

"THANKS ANYWAY!" hollered Willie!

Eventually, the noise died down, at which point Jovi continued her story.

"I decided after I watched the show, I was going upstairs. The upstairs is a lot less packed, but there's usually something a lot more fun going on up there."

"What do they have nowadays?" asked the bartender.

"Well, they've got a pretty wide assortment of tunes at the karaoke corner. Not only do they have chart-topping radio hits from since the phonograph was born, but they have cult singers by the truckload. They also clear out the bar for a round of _Whose Line Is It, Anyway?_ every once in a while. Apparently, this was one of those times."

Now Willie was interested enough. He got up and sat at the bar next to Jovi. "Hang on. They do _Whose Line Is It Anyway?_ over at Club Krabby? I need to get the motor running a little more often. That show rocks! I've always wanted the shot to be in it!"

"I remember the old episodes." said Jovi. "Those were the best."

Quoting an old episode from the show, Willie replied "This is the serial killer home shopping network, and look at the size of these knives!"

Jovi could not hold back her laughter. "And if you didn't feel like doing anything, they had TV and all manner of video tapes. Surprisingly, not many people watching the TV that day."

"I wouldn't put it past them." said Willie. "I sure wouldn't give up the chance to be on the stage."

"Did you ever get the shot?" asked Jovi.

Willie looked down, depressed.

"Shouldn't talk about that, huh?"

"Yeah, let's not." said Willie.

Jovi, seeking to find a new subject, looked around before noticing a sign which read:

"Bartender will not sell and/or allow others to administrate alcohol to pokémon."

"Hey, barkeep?" asked Jovi.

"Yeah, what's up?" asked the bartender.

"That sign on your wall." said Jovi, pointing to the sign. "Why is it up there?"

"People actually do that." said the bartender. "We used to get strays on a regular basis, and people would always stuff 'em fulla booze. While getting a Meowth all rosy-cheeked is good for a laugh or two, an Alakazam with the spins is not a pretty sight. Eventually, somebody threatened to sue me because their Arcanine had liver trouble."

Jovi was a bit curious about the whole ordeal, and she couldn't help but ask:

"What happened?"

"In what sounds like the setup for an extremely strange joke, a punk rocker, a street performer, and a stray Arcanine walk into a bar." replied the bartender. "Granted, there was already a slew of loaded housepets here that night, so what harm would another do, right? Yeah, right.

They picked the wrong Pokémon to inebriate that day. The next day, somebody threatened to sue me for it. At that point, I started bouncing people who ordered their pets drinks."

"Oh. I see... Strange indeed."

"Well, we do feed the legendaries wine when they stop by, but they don't stop by much." said the bartender, "Anyway, you were at the top floor of Club Krabby, right?"

"Oh, yeah..." said Jovi. "I went a few rounds on _Whose Line Is It, Anyway?_ and put on one of the tapes they had up there. They've got a film version of _The Lorax_, even."

"I remember that." said Willie. I used to watch it a lot. Those films were really good. I can even remember the tunes.

He sang a line from the opening theme, with Jovi joining in soon after. The bartender sang along with the two, faintly, under his breath. He knew the lyrics as well as anybody in that bar, as he himself had heard it time and time again.

As the last verse ended, Jovi continued speaking. "The tape ended and I left. Not before rewinding, of course."

"Of course." said Willie.

"Hoo, boy was it dark out when I went to buy the bike." said Jovi. " I'm surprised that they were still selling bikes that late. I managed to get my hands on something cheap that wouldn't get stuck in bad terrain."

"What kind did you get?" asked the bartender.

Jovi got down from her barstool and walked out of the Stand and put her hand on what looked like a floating red motorcycle with a wheel in the middle of the underside and a sidecar. "This one."

Willie soon followed and took a good look at the bike. "Ah, yes, a Perr specialty. You got a good choice. I got one from his shop. Only after a long, long time did we have to send it to the scrap heap, and it took 'em several tries to scrap it. I swear, that boy can build."

"It _is_ pretty tough, come to think of it." replied Jovi. All of a sudden, a rock hit the bike and bounced off. Then another. Then three more. Then a fairly large one, which missed, instead almost hitting Jovi and Willie.

Willie had an idea. "I'll handle this." said Willie, under his breath. He walked out over to where he thought the rocks were coming from. A young thug was crouched down and hurling rocks at various vehicles. Willie wanted nothing of it, especially as this kid and several friends spray-painted obscene messages in ridiculously large print on the entire Stand, and this one specifically was a real problem child.

"Hey, kid! Are you the moron whose been throwing rocks at the bikes?"

"Yeah," said the boy. "What's it to you?"

Willie then looked at the motorbikes, singling out the one that showed the most damage. "You see that?"

"Yeah." replied the boy.

"That's _my_ ride you just wrecked. Now you're gonna pay for the damage, or I'm gonna make sure your hospital bill costs twice as much." The boy pulled out a water pistol in response. "I'm not blind, you know. Pay up or all you'll be seeing for a month is your large intestine. The boy let out a very crude remark, to which Willie let out a sigh. "I hate to do this, but it's my last resort." Willie entered the bar, and came out with a red and white pole and slowly approached the boy before crouching down to face him. "I get the money or you get a concussion." The boy could only whimper. "Wait," Willie continued. "There is another option. Leave and don't come back. Ever. And take your idiot friends with you." The boy was off like a rocket. Willie then stood up. "Sometimes, you gotta speak on their terms. That's not my bike, though."

The two returned to the bar, where Jovi continued her story.

"The next day, I decided I was going to go for a ride through the desert..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Out on the road, that bike handles pretty good." continued Jovi. "I wound up driving all over the place, but I wasn't alone. Not by a long shot. There was a four-by-four full of drunks cheering, shouting and doing donuts while listening to rock songs about college fratboys, hippie-eating monsters and the like. One of them was even swinging around a bottle of Clorox and swearing. I don't know where they were headed, but I drove back to Gateon and decided to wait a while. As tempting as it is to follow groups of people playing underground music, it's usually not a good idea, as I once learned from a clearly disturbed man who played a song titled _All The Children Are Dead_ on loop on his boombox.

Eventually, I went back on the road again, this time with a purpose. I went over to Pyrite. And guess who I encountered over there."

"Those drunks in the four-by-four?" asked Willie.

Jovi grinned. "That's right, those drunks in the-"

All of a sudden, a loud, nonsensical song filled the parking lot, one that was either about a large-scale lower-class rebellion against the social values of the outlandishly rich or the glories of non-stick cooking spray. Jovi knew very well what this meant:

"Oh, crap. Hide me!"

"All right," said the bartender. "You can hide behind the counter, but don't drink nothin' okay?"

"Gotcha." replied Jovi, who then hurriedly rushed behind the counter. At that instant, the music stopped, and a group of five potted punks, four males, one female, staggered in angrily. One of the males, a notably portly sort with a botched mohawk stumbled towards the barkeep. Struggling to appear normal, the man asked a question:

"Hey, 'a you seen a girl 'bout yay high," placing his hand at roughly Jovi's height, "wi' blue hair 'n lo'g pigtails?

The bartender recognized this fellow quite well. "Aren't you the guy who was shouting the Milwaukee Seven in the parking lot with a mouth full of detergent?"

The fat punk replied in a manner quite typical of addicts in denial. "I ain' go' no pro'l'm!"

The woman walked forward. "This girl a' which w' speak 'as giv'n us a prom'nent affron' t' our dign'ty. We nee' t' 'mass our veng'nce."

The bartender took a good look at the group and could tell from the start they were questionable sorts. "I cannot trust your account of the story, as your behavior and most likely reasoning have also been altered by the large amounts of alcohol," he replied, directing his speech now towards the fat one, "Or, in your case, cleaning supplies," now turning his attention towards the entire crowd of drunks, "That you have no doubt ingested."

The lady, indeed quite offended that somebody suggested that she had a drinking problem, spoke up. "Now you list'n h're! We wen' out for an, umm... uhhh, a walk! Yeah, a walk, ri', guys?" The other punks nodded their heads. The bartender shook his. The busted broad continued on: "We were ou' for a walk, an' when w' came back, our fourbie was keyed, dented, n' knocked on its side, not t' mention that all the gas was siph'ned out of it and crude imag'y had been spray-pain'd all over it. *hic* Well, this girl, she's the firs t'ing we see there, so in our opini'n, she 'ad to be th' one."

The barkeep, in evident disbelief, tried to reply. "Uhhh-"

A third member of the group, this one packing a pomapdour which, if need be, he could use to commit murder. "Lemm' pu' it in terms you c'n un'erstand. This girl keyed, dented, and siphoned the fuel ou' of our ride b'fore tiltin' it and spray pain'in' a-"

"I get what you're saying, I just don't believe it. There's the fact that you're all drunk, not to mention that I have no clue when this happened."

After a brief pause, the fat one piped up. "Uh, that's b'side the point. This girl wrecked our ride and our dign'ty, and we nee' ta get even! We, uhhh..."

All of a sudden, another blue-haired girl in her early teens with blue hair in pigtails walked into the bar. And, of course, she brought some friends, all wearing kimonos. "Good going, girls! We put on a show tonight!" Her friends all nodded. "Now who wants what?"

"I think we should wait to see what they have." said one of the other girls.

"Good idea, Sayo!" said the girl, who then proceeded to walk through the door. "Set six extra places, we're coming to your place for... dinner?"

It seems that our schnookered crooks noticed the girl, and through the thick, altered-state-of-mind-induced haze, could not tell her from their actual target. The fat one came charging for her, hoisted her in midair and came running out the door. "Let me GO, you bleach-belching TAUROS!" All of a sudden, sirens blared outside the bar. The crowd of punks was soon surrounded by cops.

"Hey, you! Bibarrel boy! Drop the girl and put your hands up! And bring your friends with you! You are all charged with disturbing the peace and driving while intoxicated! You too, fatboy!"

The fat man, at a loss for words, slowly set down the girl and ran several feet before tripping and hitting the sand hard. He and his friends were instantly hauled over into a cop car. The car drove away. At this point, Jovi felt that it was safe to hang up the phone and go on the other side of the bar.

"So, how long have they been holdin' that grudge?" asked the bartender.

"Quite a while now." Jovi replied, drinking another glass of root beer.


End file.
